Insignificantly Significant
by Polluxa
Summary: YAOIThe importance of something unimportant. Like underwear. You wear it everyday unless you lead a very adventurous life and barely notice that it’s there, but you don’t want to be caught dead in the wornout one. But this fic isn't about underwear...


**Disclaimer :** **One Piece** and its characters are not mine. They belong to **Odacchi**, whose feet (and other parts) I would've kissed, if not for this stupid restraining order his lawyers put on me. Just kidding.  
**Pairing : ZoSan  
****Timeline :** There's no exact timeline, but it's definitely after Going Merry entered the Grand Line and before Water Seven.  
**Rating :** **PG-13** for the **boys love**, the colorful lingo, and all that smoking. It's **COMEDY**, but only if you think it's funny. Otherwise, it's **ROMANCE**.  
**Warning :** I'm a non-English speaker without a proofreader. My English isn't that bad (I hope), but it's definitely not sparkling perfect either. Keep on reading if you must, leave if you don't. If you like it and want to help proofread it, just let me know. :D  
I'm not sure this has a plot. If you find where the plot has gone to, let me know too. And oh, beware of innuendos.  
**Summary :** The importance of something unimportant. Like underwear. You wear it everyday (unless you lead a very adventurous life) and barely notice that it's there, but you don't want to be caught dead in the worn-out one. What would the ambulance technicians think when they see it? So you kind of pay attention to it. But this fic isn't about underwear…

**Note**:  
What started out as a 15-minute drabble had grown a life of its own and rambled on for 12k words… gives the fic a dirty look. In my defense, I only wrote the first ten paragraphs. After that, I can't be held guilty for what I wrote. It's hard to think that you're guilty when you were the one under the threat of three convincing swords held by a very persistent swordsman muse. He said something about getting back for last week's galley brawl that involved a sardine and pink elephants. If you're smart, like me, you don't ask questions. If you're smarter, unlike me, you don't read this fic…

* * *

**Insignificantly Significant**  
By Polluxa

He wanted it to be perfect.

Not because he was a perfectionist. It was because the other one was.

He wanted it to be special.

It had to be, for it was his pride at stake. Among other things.

He wanted it to be fitting.

So that the other one would recognize his sincerity. That the whole deal was really out of his willingness. Not out of reluctance. Not out of obligation. Some part out of guilt, maybe, but not all of it.

He wondered if he would confuse the other one with this. He had to admit that throughout his wild, wild adventures as an outlaw at the sea with a bounty on his head, this was by far the most insane and bizarre thing he ever had to do. He asked himself if he was man enough to do it. He might brood over the possible outcome of his action; he might wonder what the impact would do to his ego and dignity.

But damn it, he would never question his guts on doing anything.

Not even on this.

Roronoa Zoro stood at the sidewalk. His eyes were drilling holes at the store window before him. His stance rigid, as if he was ready to do something that would take considerable will power. Or at least he was determined to try to get ready for it. The look on his face was as firm as his pose, so firm that it bordered on being painfully strained. Hell, he could feel the stare he was getting from the passers-by. Somewhere at the back of his mind he realized that he might look a little strange glaring murders at a store window in the middle of a peaceful, if bustling, street in the commercial part of the port city. But the better part of his mind didn't have the time to worry about that.

He had to do it.

He wasn't sure why he was willing to.

It wasn't just the part of doing it that scared… — No, no, not 'scared'. The word he was looking for was 'concerned'. Zoro couldn't be _that_ easily scared. Anyway, it wasn't just the part of doing it that… _concerned_ him. The hardest part was to accept the fact that he was _going_ to do it. It wasn't easy, obviously. Zoro, of all people, was never big on gestures. And Zoro, being Zoro, had never paid much attention to what other people think of him or his actions. He was his own man. He had his own rules and anyone else who meddled into his business should taste the nastier sides of his three swords, and go flying into hell to cry at the feet of the Devil himself.

Then, goddamnit, why the hell was he doing this?

He cursed inwardly.

Because the incident was really his fault? Well, at least, a part of it was. And he was going to make up JUST for the part where he was at fault. Right. Would someone, please, underline and bold the capital letters? Thanks.

Another passers-by went by him. This time they were a girl around six or so and her mother. The little girl's eyes were ogling at him as her mother dragged her off the sidewalk, eyes averted, avoiding Zoro.

"Mommy, Mommy, why's that scary man's face looks very, very red?"

"Shush, dear. Just walk along now. Hurry."

They scurried a good way off Zoro's vicinity, with the mother practically pulling at her daughter's arm to speed up their frantic escape. Zoro cursed like a pirate that he, at the moment, was. Standing at the upper class commercial district, he was as conspicuous as a sinister dark elephant among a flock of pristine white ducks.

This wouldn't do. Words went out that a suspicious looking pirate was eyeing a store, and the police, if not marines, would march up to him in mere minutes. It had to be done. Alas, he'd done things much more horrendous and loathsome than this. He would just suck it up and do it.

And so he determinedly crossed the distance between himself and the door to the store.

Little brass bells tinkled loudly. Their echoes spread into the tasteful hush of the posh boutique like a virus into a yielding body; slow, determined, and catastrophic.

Zoro froze at the doorsill, wary of the cautious aura in his surroundings that rose in the wake of his entrance.

He had a sudden urge to shatter those pesky bells.

Was that how it supposed to happen? He had never been in a fancy store before. Well, he was hardly ever been in a store before. Unless you could call the smithy a store. He was as lost as a killer whale at the peak of the Alps as he was in this store. His rogue instinct told him that the bells might work as a warning device to alert the proprietors of the coming intruders. Never did he realized that his mere presence in the boutique —with his coarsely cut flaming-green hair, ragged clothing, three menacing swords, and the ominous sweep of the room with his eagle-like eyes— was enough to set off more red flags than a series of cheerful bell chimes.

One look of his surrounding was enough to tell Zoro that he was at the moment in a place where he would never belong. Not that it mattered, anyway. It was not his concern to belong there. What he had in mind was a quick hit-and run purchase. That was "he comes, he looks, he buys". That was all of it. Swift, efficient, and if he was lucky, he would spare himself the embarrassment of being in a place like this.

But then again, when the store's clerk scrambled at his direction with the combined expressions of fear and desperate professionalism, he realized with a dread that this probably wouldn't be as swift and efficient as he wished. It was more likely to be "he comes, he looks, he tries to explain to the local authorities that he's not there to raid the merchandise".

But Zoro was not Zoro if he would be chased away by a store clerk. Especially, not one with trembling knees.

The clerk managed to stop a safe distance away from him. He was a man in his middle twenties, but the stiffness of his posture and face added a few more years to his whole appearance. His black hair was pulled to the back of his head and kept that way with something sticky and glossy. His black three-piece suit was immaculate and as rigid as his skinny back. His long, horsey face was furnished with a protruding chin. His beady eyes gleamed with fear. It was unfortunate of him that it was his first day at his new, fancy job. After the mess of his last job serving the diner at the dock —which involved a spilled grub, a misplaced fist, a huge pirate brawl, and a very infuriated ex-owner of a burnt-down diner, who happened to be his ex-boss— he was never to work at a place where he would see pirates again. Ever. What were the odds of Roronoa Zoro, the ex-bounty hunter with a bounty of his own on his head, to step into this boutique?

However, the poor clerk had determined to keep his new job, if it would kill him with three very sharp-looking swords. And with that positive mind-set, he set out to make his first sale.

"May I be of service to you, sir?"

"Humph," was Zoro's sophisticated response.

"Sir?"

The clerk tried again, thinking that if he were to die, at least he'd die not as a jobless loser with 20.000 beli of debt, from the ruined diner. His mother would be so proud.

"Are you, by any chance, looking for an address?"

"Humph, no. Unless, this isn't the… uh… Merman… store."

Zoro did a little research of what make the bastard liked his stuff, before going to this place. That research consisted of going through the bastard's wardrobe chest. Zoro found something similar to what he was going to get and read the shop's label on the thing. That was how he got there.

"No, sir, it isn't. This is the Giorco Marmani boutique, the largest outlet of the whole chain stores."

Zoro raised his razor-sharp brows. "What did I say?"

The clerk's brows twitched but he let it go with a strained, yet, very professional, smile.

"Then, you are at the right place, sir," which was much to the clerk's surprise. "Allow me to be of service to you. Are you here to pick up a pre-ordered purchase?"

"What's pre-ordered?"

"Erm… That is, a purchase already made before the item is sent to the customer. I'll check the order list if you'd give me your master's name."

Zoro's discomfort, which first showed up the second he stepped into the store, was intensified.

"I am my own master. I have no other. And no, I'm not here to pick up anything, unless you have the thing I want. And that means I'll buy it. Now."

The clerk had the decency to blush properly. Furiously, mostly to himself, he apologized and apologized to Zoro, wishing with all his might that this pirate would at least leave the store intact this time.

"Are you looking for a particular item, sir?" asked the clerk again, with renewed courtesy. "Or would you like to browse through our fine collections?"

"Err…."

Zoro scanned around and found himself horrified by the lavish interior of the store. Everywhere he looked, he saw figures and carvings and sculptures of fine marble, lacquer, bronze, and everything that shined. Lush greeneries peeked from spaces unoccupied by the alabaster and metal pieces; strange and exotic-looking even to the eyes of a pirate who had roamed many oceans. And islands too, of course.

"Where are all the goods?" he asked, unaware of the clerk who was gaping at his delicate choice of word.

The clerk believed, after long hours of the new entrée's training, that Marmani was one of the foremost fashion labels in the Grand Line, and that the whole collection was considered the jewels of the fashion industry, et cetera et cetera. He remembered it because it was part of the company's motto. To hear Zoro call them "goods", it felt… horribly satisfying. Mostly because the clerk didn't actually care much about a pile of clothes, but needed the job so badly that he would kiss every shirts and pants sold in the store if his manager had ordered him so.

"The… 'goods', sir," the clerk's lips twitched, "are at the inner part of the store. If you'd follow me, I'll show you the way. Do you need something for yourself?"

"No."

"Ah, for your lady, then?"

The clerk noticed the furious blush that assailed the scruffy features. He smiled inwardly, satisfied to finally learn the reason why this shabby mess of a man would step into a store of this caliber. When it comes to love, the clerk mused, there was not a thing or place a true man would not obtain or venture to.

"Oi."

The love of this scoundrel must have been one that crossed the borders of castes and ranks. Such romance! He must help. Despite of this dubious character, it was his duty as the clerk of this store to help his customers find the appropriate item to improve their life! The clerk began to think that perhaps this line of work was very well suited for him. His mother was right. He would be better off here than working at that dingy diner.

"Oi!"

Zoro tapped the clerk's shoulder not so lightly.

"Oi, tight-ass. I said, I'm not looking for something feminine."

The clerk winced, mostly at the word 'tight-ass'. "You're not?"

"No…" Zoro looked away, trying to gather every will power his mind could muster, bit down his mortified cursing, and let out the truth. "I'm looking for something… for a guy."

And with that, the clerk's foundation of belief in the romance of his new job cracked and crumbled into dust.

"I… I see… And may I know the particular item you need?"

Zoro told him. And Zoro blushed.

The clerk frowned in confusion, more at the blush, rather than the name of the item itself.

"Excuse me, sir, but why are you blushing at the mention of that item? It's a very common accessory. Lots of people wear it, especially lately when it's so in style. Nothing you need to be embarrassed about."

Zoro gritted his teeth. "It's not the thing that… _concerned_ me. And it's none of your business anyway."

"Right, sir."

"And I'm not embarrassed! Damn it!"

"Of course, sir."

After much lip-twitching from the clerk's part, which showed an amazing amount of tight-ass-ness self-control, the clerk led the way to another direction, to another section of the store that held all merchandise for men. Zoro was not very much convinced. All around him was nothing that any men would consider to be found in, or with, alive. At least, no men Zoro personally knew.

Bile rose in his throat as the urge to escape this frilly satin hell began to overwhelm him. It got even worse when the clerk started displaying the store's collection. Riots of colors, motifs, fabrics, and more colors jumped on his eyes and lashed out against his sense of manliness without mercy. He was vaguely aware that the clerk chattered away the details of the varieties of the whole collection, but he didn't hear any of that. He was glad he didn't. He had a specific color in mind. He thought it was enough. But Zoro had a lot to learn about fashion before stepping into its kingdom. When he mentioned the color he wanted, the clerk asked about the color scheme. He hadn't even had the chance to wonder what "color scheme" meant, or if it was something mortally dangerous, when the clerk began listing the appropriate schemes for the color he requested. He was still somewhere between "sable - pearly" and "indigo - noir", when the clerk shoved a catalogue of models and fabric samples into his hesitating hands.

"If you want to go for something dandy chic, then this checkered motif would do just nicely. Or this wavy design, if you're going for the psychedelic-retro look. You can browse through this catalogue until you find what you want or have a look at our display here."

It would be the death of him, Zoro thought, if he were to be caught alive with a fashion catalogue in his hands. It was decided as his doomed day the moment he stepped into this fucked-up stupidity called fashion boutique. He needed help. He had never seen so many of them; not in as many of motifs, colors, and styles, whatever crap they were. He didn't care before. Not even a bit. And he wouldn't be if that shit-head bastard wouldn't either. _Damn the shit-head!_ Anger began to seep through his brain as yet another series of patterns was piled onto his hands.

When in doubt, follow your instinct.

When you're on the verge of loosing your footing on insanity, let your mind slip away and your body take over.

Those were the primal rules of a mad warrior. They had saved Zoro's life in countless dangerous occasions.

And at the moment, his instinct screamed, "SCRAM!"

His body was already moving by itself, leaving the dumbstruck sales clerk alone among the sea of displayed merchandise, who had flashes in his mind of the dreaded day when his mother would find out that he couldn't make rent and was shoved into the street like a worthless, penniless dog.

…………………………………………………………………………

"So, what the hell was the big deal?" She slurped the tall drink of coconut-orange cocktail. "You could just grab it and leave. End of story."

Nami put down the slim glass back on the cheap tea table beside her knockdown lounger. Sunlight glistened on the warm floor of Going Merry's deck, probing at every nook and cranny of the wooden surface. It left the shaded area under Nami's huge beach umbrella to the warm, pleasant mid-afternoon breeze. Beside Nami, Nico Robin stretched her long limbs on her own lounger with a perpetual little smile during the whole conversation. Zoro wasn't sure of what that little smile could suggest, but he knew that Robin wasn't one to make fun of her crewmates. No, actually, he was more bothered by the casual, if rather cheeky, way Nami treated his problem in.

He didn't start this, damn it. He'd rather dig a hole and bury his head in there for the rest of their stay in this port city, out of shame and frustration, than to relate the whole stupid deal at the store to Nami, or any girls for that matter. Girls _talk_. Who knew what she and Robin would twitter about when he wasn't around? And who could be around when they're twittering about it? If he hadn't been so stupid as to scramble out of the bloody store, right into the girls who were doing some shopping of their own, he wouldn't have been forced to tell them what he was doing there. _Damn Nami and her sleazy ways…_ But, at least the males of the crew didn't have a clue.

He wasn't sure if he was more horrified to find himself discussing his personal problem with the girls —especially, the same girls that was a part of the very reason why he had to do this— or to know that he was such a pushover.

"I don't know what the hell happened, damnit!" he spazzed. "The guy kept throwing me stupid colors and cloths, I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I'm a bloody swordsman! I don't do colors and stupid motifs and designs! Stupid bastard has to dress up like a sissy and I'm neck-deep in psychotic patterns!"

"It's psychedelic, Zoro-san. Not psychotic," said Robin, in between her soft, amused chuckles. "They're actually very much in season lately."

Zoro shot her a glare. "Well, they sure looked psychotic to me."

"All right, down, Zoro," Nami frowned at him. "You'd better keep it down unless you wanted the other guys to find out. You're lucky that we were the one you stumbled into. And you especially don't want _HIM_ to know, do you?"

"Of course, not!" spat Zoro. "Not him. If I had my ways, _you two_ wouldn't even know it."

"It's okay, Zoro. Robin and I are on your side. Well, we're on both your sides. We'd love to see you get along, you know. I know, after what happened, that you may not have the best opinions of us, but it's not like we did anything wrong. So keep the anger down and channel it somewhere else, like… Oh I don't know, training or whatever manly stuff you usually do to make up for your girly afternoon today."

Smiling gently, Nami eyed the upset swordsman for a moment while entertaining herself with some outrageous ideas of why Zoro did what he did. She didn't thought he had it in him to do this kind of thing. _So, people do change_, she mused. Or maybe he didn't change. He simply grew up.

"Aaargh… Fuck it! I don't care anymore! Why would I bother so much for an asshole like him?"

Or maybe not. Nami rolled her eyes.

"Well, do you still want to get it or not?"

He leered at her with those soul-taking eyes. Unfortunately, she was immune to it. Hell, she could leer in her own many different ways that were filthier than his.

But Zoro, if anything, was never a liar. Not even to himself. So he nodded, quietly, almost solemnly, and Nami understood.

"Okay, here's the plan. You're going to the store again tomorrow. Shut up, listen to me!" She killed his attempt at protesting. "I'll go with you. Shut up, I said. I'm not finished. I'll go with you just for morale support, okay? You'll go into the store yourself. Grab the thing, go to the register, and leave. No time for panicking this time, you got that, Zoro? You know his color, you know his style. Just get in there, grab it, pay it, and leave. You can do it. Don't worry."

He scoffed, leaning his back against the deck railing, looking sideways towards the open sea.

"Believe me, buying the stupid thing isn't the hardest part."

Nami grinned. "Figures."

He didn't have to do this. How many times had he reminded himself? He really didn't have to. It was an accident. They did it all the time. Only this time, it went bad. He didn't mean it to happen. Sure, stupid bastard was angry. But he was angry with Zoro all the time, so why bother?

Right.

Why bother?

Was it because he couldn't stand the fact that he owed the asshole something? Or was it because it was the right thing to do, and as an honorable guy that he was, he had to do it? But this didn't feel like an obligation. _He _wanted it to be perfect. _He _wanted it to be fitting. _He_ wanted it to be fucking special. Why, though? Why would he spend most of his personal money to buy an overpriced piece of crap?

Because he respected the value of little things?

Oh, please. Not that.

He doubted that he valued material things, except for his swords. And it wasn't a sentimental thing that the asshole lost. It wasn't his right leg or something. It was just an accessory, like that clerk said. Something he wore almost everyday, even during life-and-death battles. It was a stupid thing, really. Insignificant. But if Zoro thought about it, it was a part of the asshole's look. Vanity, yes, it was. Vanity was not Zoro's thing. But it was a part of the bastard. Zoro made him lose it by force. That little, insignificant thing.

Or maybe he actually felt guilty for it. For using his own hands to try and actually hurt the bastard. He missed, of course, but he didn't miss very far. He remembered the look on the bastard's face when he realized what Zoro had done. Was Zoro serious when he did that? Yes, and no. Yes, he wanted to hurt the asshole, but no, he didn't want to hurt him that badly. Maybe Zoro just wanted to apologize for it. But he could just apologize. He didn't have to go out of his way to buy the stupid thing. They were men. They didn't have to bother about little things.

Maybe he thought it was important to the other, and didn't actually want to be the person to rob the other of his favorite thing. Hell, who knew what he would do if he had to lose his own haramaki.

Maybe he did value little things, when it came to the asshole.

Maybe it all boiled down to something as simple as that.

The noises from the galley tugged him out of his thoughts. The common scene of Luffy flying out the galley's door, across the deck, only to hit the ship's railing, was part of the daily life on Going Merry. It was so much part of the daily routine that it wouldn't feel right if a day passed without the cook kicking the captain out of the kitchen. Across the sun-bathed deck, Zoro laid his eyes on the blonde bastard who was yelling curses at the captain while lowering his lethal leg from the kick just before. As the fair head bobbed and disappeared behind the galley's door, Zoro renewed his will and revived his resolution.

With a soft scoff and a resigned smile he didn't know he could wear, he turned to Nami.

"Don't bother coming with me tomorrow. I'll go alone. It's just something I want to do by myself. And I guess I won't be doing it just for him. I've got my own reasons."

Nami, and Robin, returned his smile knowingly.

…………………………………………………………………………

Sanji was _not_ happy. And he had quite a few reasons why he shouldn't be. Strangely enough, it wasn't entirely his fault that his mood had been in its lowest for many days now. Although, traveling around with a group of morons, it wasn't really unexpected. Nami-chan and Robin-chan weren't included in that same moron label, of course. And Chopper was harmless. But the rest were just a bunch of idiots.

First, Usopp, whom he mostly considered merely as another presence aboard the ship, had just acquired a new level of annoyingness, in Sanji's eyes, by starting another "great new invention that would take the world in surprise of my acute skill and amazing genius" whatever-crap. Sanji wouldn't give a rat's ass to what that "great new invention" would be, as usual, if he weren't to be kept aware of the making process. Usopp, who had his own share of chores on the ship by day like everybody else, mostly worked on his invention during his spare time, which was at night. Sometimes, when it was his turn, he would do it while he took the night watch. At then, Usopp would bang and clang and thunk away through the night, causing Sanji —who was a light-sleeper— to writhe on his hammock with irritation and a renewed urge to feed that curly head to the sharks. On many nights, Sanji stomped to the rear deck in the deadest hours of the night to curse, swear, and generally wish many ugly things to happen to the self-acclaimed inventor if he wouldn't stop making noises.

In his defense, Usopp pointed out that many of his "little fucked-up useless things" —as quoted from Sanji— had proved to be not so useless after all in the many previous battles they had gone through. In fact, there were times when his "crappy junkyard waste" —again, quoted from Sanji— were the very things that kept some of them alive, so Sanji should quit being a nagging bastard and leave him alone.

To that, Sanji could only graciously respond by holding up a finger.

Second was Luffy. While the brat hadn't quite been a Pirate King yet, he had positively achieved the glorious title of a Moron Pirate King. If Sanji didn't see a great quality of a captain in the boy, or that little peculiar thing he couldn't explain that made Luffy so… likeable? Interesting? Bizarrely amusing? Whatever the words, if Sanji didn't see all that in Luffy, he wouldn't have agreed to be under the command of such a nutcase. If only the boy had the appetite of a normal person, Sanji wouldn't complain. Much. While it was a fun challenge to find ways to feed the captain's bottomless stomach, it was definitely not a fun thing to know how Luffy keep finding his own ways to challenge Sanji's severely locked storage room. And most of the time, the boy succeeded. Sanji couldn't count how many sudden stops the ship had to make at an island or a town simply because they ran out of food, thanks to their thoughtless, ever-starving captain. Just last week, Sanji found out that his secret food stash was broken into. The crew must suffered famine and Sanji had to reduce his excellent culinary skill to turn a loaf of half-moldy bread into satisfying meals for six people, for five days, before the ship luckily landed on a lush tropical island lavished with fruits and greens.

Even just now, Sanji had only returned from food shopping in the city to find Luffy sneaking into his kitchen again. After kicking the famished captain out the galley, and thoughtfully threw a watermelon at him, Sanji put down his shopping baskets on the kitchen counter. With his brows still frowning with irritation, he lit a cig and leaned back against the counter, falling back to his musings.

Still, no matter how twisted, or nastily simple, Luffy's mind worked or how annoying Usopp could get, no one could ever come close to Roronoa Zoro in the idiocy department. _Geez_, just thinking about the asshole could work up his anger this much. He blew a mouthful of smoke as he reminded himself exactly why he hated the son of a bitch. Oh, he could make a very long list for that. Starting from how Zoro always managed to get on his nerves anytime, anywhere, and anyhow he wished, with his irritating remarks or his sleepy-eyed stare or his existence, really. The fact that he fought well and often bragged to be the better fighter than Sanji was another thing. Not to mention, the way he slept through important chores on board, which often caused the others many troubles covering for him. Especially, oh geez, _especially_, how the bastard always scorned at Sanji's habit of, in his own amorous way, respecting and indulging the fine ladies of the ship.

Che. That reminded him of what happened three nights ago, much to his dislike.

Sanji didn't and couldn't understand why Zoro wouldn't just leave him alone when he spoiled Nami and Robin. Or generally, any other girls ever had been aboard the ship. "Dim-witted dickhead" and "pathetic pushover" were the exact words Zoro used to describe him, loudly, whenever Sanji was serving the girls with extra care. It was easy to ignore him at first, but the annoying name-calling never stopped. If possible, it became louder and more insulting. And Sanji wasn't really the permissive fellow when it comes to insults. Particularly when they came from Zoro. And they would shout and curse and bitch at each other. It went on to a point, added with their daily dose of mutual cussing, that there was never a day in which the Going Merry crew didn't have to stop both of them from beating each other to bloody pulp.

Until three nights ago.

They hadn't seen or cursed at each other since then.

It wasn't exactly the worst fight they had ever got themselves into. At least, no blood was shed that night. It was always a good sign when it came to pirate brawls. Or bad, depending on how you look at it. It started as something simple. Just another little fight they used to have. But one thing led to another, before anyone could stop it, it turned into something bigger and uglier. An insignificant fight about something they held deep inside as secretly significant, Sanji hated to admit. At then, it was so secret that they both didn't realize it was already there, being significant. Sanji didn't and Zoro, though he seemed to have some suspicions, didn't either.

It was dinnertime. After the stop they made at the tropical island, Sanji had cooked nothing but exotic greens and fruits. Zoro, always the meat-lover, avoided meal times like they were the lepers and satisfied himself by lying around on the deck, eating winds. Sanji wasn't sure whether it was the hunger itself or the hunger-filled envy that caused Zoro to snap that night, when he saw Sanji feeding excessive vegetarian delicacies to the ladies. Probably both. And when Zoro snapped, he snapped like an angry bull in a red-walled stadium.

_They were in the galley. Dinner was being served. Zoro was leaving the room when Sanji presented some vegetable appetizers on the table. The ones for Nami and Robin were the fancy kind he made with extra care and, of course, extra love. He went on about how special he made the mea; how he had chosen the perfect type of vegetables to suit each of their taste, how he dressed the dishes, how he gave his own final touch to the finishing, and so on. The girls were thanking him properly, which excite Sanji enough to lavish them with amorous, worshipping your-welcomes._

It was then when Zoro stopped dead in his way to the door and turned around with a flash of something in his eyes. Something bad.

"Why the hell did you waste so much food for one meal? Do you want us to starve again like last week?"

_"Why are YOU so upset? YOU're the one who doesn't want to eat my food anymore."_

_"What, you want me to be a fucking goat?"_

_Chopper sighed. "Oh, dear…" _

_Nami seemed slightly annoyed. "Here they go again."_

_Robin just smiled, looking mildly amused._

_Usopp watched with worry._

_Luffy kept eating._

_"Those were hardly grass, you idiot! They're called vegetables. Healthy things, you know. Some of them are rather rare and sold as very expensive cuisines when I was still on the Baratie."_

_"Still taste like grass to me."_

"Of course, with YOUR barbarian tongue, caviar and swamp soil would taste just the same." 

_Chopper sighed again. "Oh, no… Not that again…"_

"Why wouldn't they? They're fish eggs!" "Right, why would I even have to bother? And what's your point, anyway? You used to eat my veggie stew and soup just fine!" 

_"Well, not three times a day, I won't!"_

_"It's not really my fault that we run out of food and have to get by on greens. Go bitch at your captain! He's the reason why you can't have your meat." _

_Luffy helped himself to his third plate._

_Nami massaged the throbbing vein on her temple._

_Robin was still smiling._

_Usopp worried some more._

_"We all know what Luffy's like. You know him too. If you had locked the storage room more properly or hid the food better or something, we wouldn't be starving!"_

_"Oho, so it's my fault now? It's my fault even though I change the locks and hide the provision baskets in different places seventeen times a day? It's my fault that, in spite of that, Luffy still found it out anyway?"_

_"Well, that means you hadn't done a very good job at it."_

_"Bullshit! Don't talk to me about doing my job when you're not doing yours!"_

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"Ah, you can't remember? How convenient. Must've saved you lots of hard work, while the rest of us are busting our asses out with our chores."_

_Somehow, Chopper felt the need to comment. "N-not really, you know. The chores aren't really that bad…"_

_Nami's vein twitched. "Never mind them, Chopper."_

_"Shut up, you prissy! If you're talking about the _one time_ I forgot my turn to do the dishes, just let it drop, okay! It was just one time!"_

_"Oh, really? Then, what about the times when you 'forgot' to go shopping for food with me in the last five port stops? It was a hell of a fine time for me to be carrying potato sacks and tons of flour bags if Nami-chan and Robin-chan and Chopper didn't help me! _THAT_ is _YOUR_ job. Don't tell me you forgot about it, you asshole! Not all five times!"_

_"Che. So what if I forget things easily, bastard!"_

_"Well, if you realize that, then don't go bitching about other people's business!"_

_"Other people bu… The hell! We're talking about your stupid habit of wasting food here! It's the whole crew's business too, you dumb-ass!"_

_"Asshole! That's not really your point, is it? You're actually on to something else, isn't it?"_

_"Oh yeah? What do you think that is?"_

_"Well, you're actually just jealous."_

_Long pause. _

_Everybody froze. Everybody, but Usopp, who quietly crawled to the kitchen and hid behind the sturdy counter._

_Luffy helped himself to his sixth plate._

_"What?"_

_"Yeah, you're just jealous to see that Nami-chan and Robin-chan got better treatment on this ship, and you don't."_

_Another pause._

_Nami's vein twitched some more. "Leave me and Robin out of your embarrassing fight, idiots."_

_Robin smiled. "I don't mind."_

_The fighters ignored them._

_"And that's wrong? Besides Luffy, we all have equal positions on this ship. And even Luffy don't get special treatment. I don't get it with you and women. Do you always think with your dick when it comes to them? I don't see what you see in them; no offense, girls, it's nothing personal." Robin answered with a soft chuckle and a shake of the head. "I have no problem having them in the crew, as long they stay out of my way. But it disgusts me to hear you moan and swoon around them like you're some kind of a worthless lackey."_

_Angry pause._

_Chopper joined Usopp behind the counter._

_"What I do with them is none of your business." _

_"It's my business when all I can hear each day is your disgusting swooning."_

_"Shut up, you bastard! I don't swoon!"_

_"Like hell, you do!"_

_"Well, at least I'm not like some loser swordsman who is good at nothing else but sleeping!"_

_"Watch your words, sissy cook."_

_"Stop calling me sissy!"_

_"Well, you are sissy, you pussy bastard!"_

_"Shut up, you seaweed-head!"_

_Nami rolled her eyes. "Stop it, you guys. Now you're just being little boys."_

_"Who's the seaweed-head?"_

_"Ah, haven't you looked at yourself in the mirror?"_

_"Asshole!"_

_Zoro jumped on Sanji, while the other one dodged and returned the assault with a kick in the gut. Nami rose and shouted protests. To no avail, of course. She knew it already, but she thought something should be done before they start wrecking the galley. Like taking them outside, maybe. And throwing them overboard while she was at it. Anything to keep the property damage to minimum._

_But they wouldn't part of the Straw Hat's crew if their fights could easily be stopped. And while they exchanged fists and kicks, they couldn't help but exchanged some verbal punches too._

_"You asshole! Is that all you can do?"_

_"Bastard! You want me to cut those sissy legs?"_

_"What, Roronoa Zoro, the second-rate swordsman, can't fight without his tools?"_

_"Shut up…!"_

_"Can't do anything without your swords, eh, Zoro? And you're calling me sissy?"_

_"I'll tear those legs and then you tell me who can't fight without his tools!"_

_"Body parts aren't tools, you dumb-ass! Real men fight their hands and legs only. Just let go your dreams of becoming the greatest swordsman, seaweed-head. You're not man enough for it!"_

_Zoro shook with anger. "You think turning yourself into a human rug and let women walk over you is what a real man is about? Don't make me laugh."_

_"Take that back, you fuck!"_

_"Humph, you see, real men don't lick their own spit. But I guess, you won't understand."_

_"Yeah? Real men don't attack women, especially when she's a friend."_

_Zoro froze, his eyes glared at Sanji with a renewed fury._

_"What did you say?" he asked, slow and hoarse._

_"I said, real men don't attack women. More importantly, they don't lose to women."_

_In all their previous fights, no matter how serious or ugly things got, not once did Zoro ever used his swords. He knew how deadly his weapons were, and even though he could hate Sanji's guts so much that he thought he could kill the dumb-ass cook, he never did. Never seriously thought of it. And therefore, the swords had never been unsheathed during their fights._

_Until that night._

_"Son of a bitch!"_

_It happened quicker than Sanji's fastest jump-kick. Or Luffy devouring an appetizer meal. Sanji could only see a flash of something silver swooping towards his neck. He barely managed a half dodge; leaning his body back a step. Nami rose from her seat and shouted. Chopper and Usopp squeaked from behind the kitchen counter. Luffy gaped at what he now realized as a serious situation (but not after his tenth plate). Robin had already crossed her hands before her chest —one of her Fleur moves was on the way to happen— when she saw something in both of the fighters' faces and stopped midway. After-images of her white hands around Zoro's swords quickly disappeared. Robin always thought that men fights —the serious ones— are best be dealt by the men involved. Women's hands (pun intended) in the matter would only complicate matters, and that was why she left them alone._

_Sanji risked a look down. Instead of seeing his own blood spluttered from his chest, he saw something else that was slightly more shocking. His black tie. Sliced into three sad pieces. Two pieces fell to the floor noiselessly, and the last one remained around his neck, butchered and looking quite pathetic._

_When Sanji raised his head, he saw that Zoro was looking even more horrified than he was. As if he was the one more surprised to see his own doing. What he was capable of doing. Fear and surprise and shame and regret took turns to control Zoro's expression. The latter stayed longer. The look was visible, unhidden behind the stony, sleepy-eyed mask that Zoro used to wear, that it caused Sanji more stunned than angry at the situation._

_And Sanji wasn't in the position of hiding his own feelings, either. He had a look on his face that Zoro had never seen before, which shook the usually stout swordsman. It was the look of hurt. Not physically, since apart from his black tie, Sanji was obviously unscathed. Whatever the look meant, Zoro couldn't stay to find out. He managed to mumble an awkward, barely inaudible grunt, before he escaped the room. _

_Sanji stared at the slammed door, then at his ruined tie on the floor, and said the only thing he could say at the moment. _

_"Shit."_

Looking back at that night by no means helped Sanji's current bad mood. No, he wasn't angry. Strangely, he couldn't be. Well, sure, he made an angry scene after Zoro left the room that night. But that was simply for the sake of everybody else, who stared at him as if waiting to see his reaction. What other reaction could he possibly show? So, to satisfy his audience, he threw a huge tantrum and cursed the bastard for murdering his tie.

If truth be told, he didn't particularly love that tie. Hell, he had a chest full of the same black ties. Losing one was no big deal. Especially, to think that it was out of his own fault that he lost the tie. He said something rather uncalled for to Zoro that night, and knowing Zoro, it wasn't a surprised to see the swordsman acted that way.

But, still…

_Still…_

Something had been bugging Sanji since that night. Not the fact that he and Zoro hadn't spoken to each other for three days. Not that he thought Zoro owed him a proper apology. It was just something…

A feeling. Something he felt since that night.

Since Zoro used his swords against Sanji.

It was… painful to know that.

But why, goddamnit? They hated each other's guts. They fought almost every half hour or so. It was very likely that sooner or later they would hurt one another in many worst ways everyday. The phrase "I'll kill you!" was so often thrown at each other's faces that Nami sometimes half-joked about limiting their fights only to the deck, where it was easiest to clean the mess they left on daily basis and would lower the risk of their destroying the ship.

Wait…

Maybe that was it.

A joke.

They didn't really meant those "I'll kill you"s they had said before. Was that it?

But they hated each other's guts. Sanji was so sure about that. So much that they wanted to kill each other. Or did they really? Let's see, Sanji forced his head to think, since for some reason a part of his brain told him to stop this train of thoughts. Would he really use his kicks to mortally wound Zoro? Well, if he did, Luffy would kill him anyway when he found out. So, Sanji wouldn't really kill Zoro because he was afraid of his idiotic captain? No, he didn't think so. Sanji could recognize a lie, especially if it was his own. Oh great, so he was in denial that he didn't really hated Zoro that much?

Exactly the kind of thing he could use to improve his mood, he thought gloomily.

But then, what was that painful pang he felt in his chest when he realized Zoro was really trying to kill him?

Sanji's self-denial protested, meekly pointing out that it might be anger, or a feeling of loss for the tie.

Sanji justifiably thwarted the protest by repeating, again, that the tie didn't really matter. It was nothing more than a trivial thing.

What, then?

He growled out loud. He had been thinking about this for three days and found no answer. Why would today be any different? Feeling cramped with his own thoughts in the seemingly dingy kitchen, he took his cigarette pack with him and went outside.

And practically bumped into Zoro at the door.

Sanji gasped in surprise and inadvertently blew a puff of smoke to Zoro's face.

They both froze.

They were both silent.

And they remained that way for several seconds and two minutes, until Zoro seemed to remember something. He opened his mouth.

"Erm…"

"Move out of the way, asshole."

Sanji said it with less spite than he intended, much to his own surprise. But that wasn't the reason why Zoro wouldn't budge. He wouldn't move from the door either even if Sanji had said it while spitting acid or breathing fire. He looked like a man with a mission, and with a great interest Sanji waited for his apology.

But Zoro, being Zoro, was _really_ never big on gestures.

"You owe me an apology," said he.

Sanji gaped with disbelief. "_I_ owe _you_ an apology? Last time I checked, it was _my _tie that was the victim."

Okay, so it was a bit too melodramatic of him. But Sanji didn't bother to rectify it.

"Well, you don't really think it was uncalled for, right?"

"Like hell, it was! You're the one who started it, remember? Or did you forget about that too?"

Zoro gritted his teeth, staring at Sanji with the same anger that had exploded three nights ago. Sanji was doing his best to stomp his own guilt under his bruised dignity.

"I didn't come here to start another fight, dammit" hissed Zoro from between his teeth.

"Bad news for you," Sanji glared at him, tongue in cheek. "You just did."

Zoro scoffed and looked away. "I thought this should be simple. But what was I thinking? To think I went through all that trouble for this… Fine, I'm fine if you want things to be like this. I'm used to it anyway. Right now I just want to settle the score."

"'The hell are you talking about?"

Zoro reached into his pants and took something out. Before Sanji could see what it was, it was thrown at him. Sanji's good reflexes allowed him to catch it before it hit him in the chest. He looked down and saw a thin, black box in his hands. Three confused blinks later, he raised his head with a question hanging from the tip of his tongue, only to find that the other guy was already gone.

Curiously, he opened the box.

And be surprised for the many times that day.

"What the…"

He took out the shiny, black tie and dangled it in the air. It was shinier and sleeker than the one he lost, but it was definitely his taste. He turned it around to see the maker's label stitched classily to the back of the tie. He let a confused little laugh when he read the name, mainly because he couldn't think how the hell Zoro could get his macho hands on this fine piece of silk. And how the hell could he afford this? Well, Zoro wasn't the shopping type, so Sanji thought he didn't spend much of the money he got from his pirate adventures. Although, even for a pillaging and robbing pirate, it would cost quite a lot to buy a Marmani.

But, screw with all that. There was another more important question.

Why would Zoro buy him this tie?

It wasn't really important. Sanji had considered it a loss, whether he deserved it or not, and didn't think much of it. Zoro was right anyway. Sanji should have seen it coming when he taunted the asshole about his past. Even when Zoro started the whole argument, Sanji was the one doing the uncalled-for. It wasn't like Zoro owed him anything.

So, why?

Zoro said, he wanted to settle the score. Like hell! He never did that before. What did he care about Sanji's loss before? Nothing.

Goddamnit, why?

What was going on?

He had to know the answer. Sanji realized that he would just be wasting his time and his peace of mind if he was to stand there, being consumed by his own thoughts. And so he went, to that particular place where he knew he would find the answers to his questions without risking the loss of his pride and dignity.

He went to Nami.

…………………………………………………………………………

_"You owe me an apology."_

Zoro stood behind the deck's railing and didn't stare at the giant snail-whale that rolled lazily upon the waves a few miles off the port city's coast. He was far too busy loathing himself to notice it. _You owe me an apology. _Che. Every time he repeated the phrase in his mind, he gripped the deck's railing so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Well, if he wanted Sanji _not_ to forgive him, that ought to do it.

So much for the tie.

All that trouble he went through to get it went down the drain. The _"Well, you don't really think it was uncalled for, right?" _would seal it just right, he thought with enough self-hate to temporarily forget about his huge pride; the part of him that totally disagreed to his buying stuff for the asshole cook in the first place.

To Zoro, buying the stuff wasn't the hardest part. Obviously, the give-it-away part was. But he successfully failed that one. Actually, he wanted to be the bigger man and apologize first. Then he should have explained why he bought the gift. It wasn't just to make things even between them.

The reasons were twofold, actually. He spent many hours last night thinking about them, which concluded the three-days period of racking his brain and probing his ego. The latter hurt the most.

First, that infamous tie, represented something in the bastard that Zoro disagreed in, and showed it, that in turns led to the whole tie-butchering fiasco. Zoro thought, that by giving the asshole a new tie, it would goes to show that Zoro was now… okay… with Sanji's pursuit of vanity. And really, Sanji's chasing women around were not his business. Although, he still hated that part of the asshole.

As for the second reason…

"Oi, seaweed-head."

The calling came from behind him. It was easier not to turn around and face whatever look Sanji could have on his face. If he turned around, he would have to face his embarrassment and might do things he would regret later. But it would make the first coward thing he ever had to do. And cowardice was not a word you could find in Zoro's book.

"What?" he turned around and replied with more spite than he intended. "Want to rub it in some more?"

"No, I… "

"Fuck off."

"Shut up for a minute, will ya, shithead!"

That silenced both of them. Each one cursed himself about the fact that they couldn't be in each other's presence without exchanging curses. But Sanji quickly recovered, reminding himself that the ball was in his court now. It was up to him whether to make their little situation any better or to end it once and for all.

"Thanks for the gift," said Sanji, with an equally awkward note as Zoro had when he gave the gift away. "It's… unnecessary. You didn't have to… I mean, mine wasn't even that fancy, and… I didn't really, you know… expect you to… well, I like it. Kind of. No, really."

A moment passed before a grunt came from Zoro's direction, which was the Zoroish for "Good."

Zoro listened with cold dread —that he would never admit having, of course— when Sanji's footsteps echoed through the quiet air. The cook then stood beside him —while watching the lazy snail-whale— in a privacy-respecting distance. That was, not close enough as to intrude on Zoro's personal space, but not too far as to seem unfamiliar. Zoro considered this as Sanji's silent way to tell him that he also wanted to patch things up between them. That they were all right now. At least, neither of them needed to pretend that they were still angry and might attack the other one for the sake of pride. Just like that. It was much better than starting it with words that might betray them and ended up spiting one another. Zoro could live with that.

And now that they were okay around each other, there were still some things needed to be said. Important things he couldn't say before but knew he had to. As a man. As a friend.

As someone who was so head-over-heel over the bastard cook that he let his jealousy left a scar on their friendship.

"I…erh…" Zoro started, pretending to be very interested at the snail-whale, whose existence he actually just realized. "Sorry 'bout the tie."

"It's alright."

"No, I'm not sorry for that."

"What?"

"No, I mean, well… yes, but, more importantly, for wielding my swords against you. I never wanted to use them on a fellow crew. Didn't know if I could. I don't go around injuring my friends."

There was a pause stretching between them. It wasn't the kind that choke you up with tension, or the kind that filled the void with awkwardness. It was the comfortable pause. The strangely familiar kind that you could live in and be peaceful about. There was an invisible trace of relief in it that went much deeper and farther than words could ever achieve. Zoro could feel that something important was stirring in the air, though he couldn't really put a finger on what it was. He just hoped that, whatever it was, it was stirring in the good direction.

When he heard Sanji's words next, he knew that it did. It could only mean a good thing when Sanji's words had a grinning quality to it, even if Zoro couldn't exactly see the grin.

"I figured as much," said Sanji, who just found out that he felt more relieved than he could be in the last three days. "That's what's so great about you."

Zoro took a glance at him, surprised to hear the unexpected compliment. He found that the cook was giving him one of his smugly appreciative smiles. The one he had on for the girls. Or practically anything with a skirt on. But Zoro was no girl. And he positively did not wear skirts; which also include kilts, long robes, sarongs, honorary gowns/cloaks, togas, and, of course, most wretchedly, tutus.

"And I've seen it coming, anyway. The blow, I meant," Sanji continued. "I want to apologize. For what I said the other night. It was stupid and it didn't have anything to do with what we're fighting about. Sorry about that. I don't usually go around hurting my friends either."

Zoro wanted to say a lot of things. But he couldn't. He wasn't born with the built-in ability to speak much of what he felt. So he settled for the next best response.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I didn't deserve the tie, I think."

"It's… erh… well, not really about that. It's…erh…"

"Yeah, I know."

Zoro blinked. Then gulped and blurted. "You do?"

"I talked to Nami before." It was Sanji's turn to be very interested at the seagulls flying over the snail-whale's shiny head.

"You did?" it was more convincing as a grave statement than a question from Zoro.

"She gave me an earful, for being a prick. And she called you the other prick. She told me many things, though she didn't say the one I went to ask her about. She said, you could tell it better. So, here I am."

"Really?" Zoro stared at his own knuckles, finding a nervous lump lodged in his throat and demanded to stay. "I don't know. I'm no good with words."

"No better than I am."

They both grinned. Not to each other, but the feeling they shared was mutual. Somehow the air felt a lot lighter and the sky a lot brighter. _It was stupid_, his conscience rolled its eyes. _The air is still the same afternoon cool and the sky the same cloudless blue as they have been for the last three days_. Zoro put his conscience to a dead silence with a metaphorical dirty look. It stopped pointing out on things for the rest of the day.

"Well, I've still got a question that needs answering," said Sanji again, looking bent on getting what he wanted from the reluctant swordsman.

"Might as well ask it, then."

"Why the tie?"

_Oh, shit._ Zoro gulped, hard. _Please, anything but that. _He knew that what lay beneath the simple, innocent question wasn't really as simple and innocent as it attempted to be on the surface. How the hell could he answer that without mortifying himself? He was not a man who could bare his own feelings without much thought. He wasn't sure he could have _those feelings_ to begin with. But he did, and let's just deal with that.

Zoro thought a lot of answers. Millions of them. All the things that had been preoccupying his mind about this whole tie deal, from the moment he decided to buy it, to the time he went through hell in that damned boutique and survived it, to his conversation with Nami, and to the many hours of lonely contemplation he had in three days. Basically, there was just one answer. It had been there, in him, all along. He just had to say it right.

Zoro thought a lot of ways to answer it. Millions of them.

"Because I ruined it?"

"Come on, Zoro, you could do better than that. You once ruined my genuine leather loafers with spoiled gravy when we had that barbecue on Uufa Island last year, but I haven't received any replacement from you. Seriously, tell me."

Zoro, who had completely forgotten about the loafers, decided to put his bet on the truth.

"It suits you," he said, turning aside to catch a surprised look on Sanji's face. "Not just the tie. But this, erm… whole fancy looks that's happening on you. Definitely not my style, but it looks good on you. You know how I always bitch about your doing stupid, carefree things, like wearing ties and stuff. I know I don't have a damn right to. And, well… I just realized that it's not your wearing ties that I hate. Maybe,… erm… all this time, what I really want is for you to wear _my_ tie."

Well, okay, maybe not the whole truth. As far as veiled truth went, it was the best Zoro could manage under the sheer pressure of nerves and solid embarrassment.

What went behind Zoro's words was not lost upon Sanji. He caught what he needed to know, but didn't really believe his own ears. So he put on a confused look and protested a bit.

"But you've never said anything about my ties, I mean, yes, you…"

"We both know what I meant, you asshole," Zoro replied coldly, casting a meaningful look at Sanji, who slightly blushed before he caught himself.

Zoro looked sideways at the blush on the cook's cheeks, partly hidden behind the veil of blond hair. It was very interesting, and highly amusing, to know that he was the one who caused that blush. Not Nami-chan. Not Robin-chan. Not any other girls that ever sailed along their madmen adventures.

As Zoro now had the chance to take a good look at Sanji, he just noticed that Sanji was already wearing his tie. He was ridiculously happy with it, refusing to think it as a coincidence, even when a part of his brain —the part (that probably plotted with his conscience against him) that believed he was insane for having mushy feelings for the bastard cook— told him that after hearing what he just said, Sanji might suddenly tear out the tie and throw it into the sea. Probably at the snail-whale.

"I see." Sanji said, looking at anywhere but Zoro's face. "I've never thought… you'd be interested. I mean, a butch like you… well…"

Sanji cursed the fact that he couldn't keep the blush from creeping up his neck. Maybe Zoro was right about him being a sissy and all, he dreaded. All kinds of thoughts were swirling inside his head. He wasn't sure if it was the atmosphere —he blamed the breezy, cozy afternoon weather for improving his mood considerably— or if it was the way and the timing of it all that made him want to say the things he knew he'd regret later, when his sanity and self-composure returned from the vacation they seemed to be in at the moment. He thought of many things and felt even more. He realized he found himself feeling very much reluctant to let the tie go. And not because it was such a nice tie.

_For God's sake, this is Zoro!_

The Moron King he had cursed at just minutes ago. The one who got on his nerves anytime, anywhere, anyway, et cetera et cetera. Wanting him to _wear his_ _tie_? Damn it, why did it have to be a Marmani? He thought. _Great, Sanji, like that's really important right now?_

Zoro, who took Sanji's vague reply as a masked disgust, began to worry that his prediction might really come true. He tensed up noticeably. His rather confused pride, which had been lying dormant within him until that moment, flared up again now that it suspected it might be hurt again.

"If you don't like it, just say so, you asshole! You're insulting me if you think I can't take it like a man! I'm not asking you for a favor here. And I'll be damned if I'm going to ask for it! Bastard!"

"Shut up, you idiot!" snapped Sanji, his angry veins were popping at numerous places on his temples. "I'm not done talking yet!"

"Then, why don't you just finish it right now!"

"How could I if you keep shouting like that, shithead!"

"Fine! I'll stop shouting now! So go, talk!"

"We're not getting anywhere with you ordering me around! And you're still shouting!"

"I'm not ordering you! You're shouting too!"

Somewhere on the deck, under the concealing shadow of the wooden stairs, Nami sighed exasperatedly.

"That's it. I give up. I don't give a damn anymore. I'm not having myself sick with worry over those stupid clowns," she hissed to no one in particular.

"Oh, but I know you are," said Robin calmly. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have dragged me here."

"I dragged you here because we're supposed to be looking for the needles I dropped under these stairs when I was knitting on the upper deck. Remember? In case they find us."

"But, Nami, you don't knit," Chopper pointed out, which was hard since he was squeezed between Nami's elbow and the wooden wall, despite of his small size. He was already hiding under the stairs when Nami and Robin got there, to avoid walking in into the fight.

"Well, I might. And they don't know whether I've really started knitting or not. But that's not the point! Just look at them go! At such a perfect moment too…"

"I wouldn't worry so much if I were you," said Robin, curiously taking a peek at the bickering couple. "It's just the way they are. It goes to show that they actually care enough about each other to fuss over little things like that. I think, they don't have it in them to be cuddly or lovey-dovey. Can you see them that way?"

Both the girl and the deer made a face. "God, no."

"So, let's just be quiet and do the right thing. Would you move one of your knees, Nami? I can't see well with it sticking on my face. Thanks."

Nami gave her a dirty look. "Somehow, Robin, your values in life still managed to amaze me."

The woman shushed her with an appreciative smile, exactly at the time when Zoro just shouted the fourth "Asshole!" of the night.

"I'm done fighting with you!" Zoro gritted his teeth. "Do what you want with that tie! I don't care anymore!"

"Yeah? Good! 'Cause I'm keeping it!"

"You're what?"

"Keeping it!"

Zoro opened his mouth and found no words coming out. He thought his hearing had failed him. There he saw the angry cook, panting after the shouting fest with a face red with fury. Yet, the last words he spat out totally betrayed his looks. It was confusing, Zoro decided. It had never been easy with Sanji; from the moment they met for the first time, until this very day. So why would it have to change now? The question was would he, Zoro, still wish to be involved in something as complex and aggravating as this?

He realized with cold dread that, a) Yes, he would. Very much so. Don't ask why. And b) He didn't know how to stop being involved. He just did. And he didn't want to stop being involved. Again, don't ask why.

"You got that?" rasped Sanji again, still huffing and puffing with fresh anger, and probably something else. Something dark and feral that commanded his mind at the moment. It was different from the excitement he felt before a big battle or a big dinner feast, but he felt elated just as well. A different kind of elation, maybe.

And maybe, it was the reason why he took a step closer towards Zoro now.

"Hey, bastard, you heard that? I'm keeping this stupid tie."

Another step. And another. The swordsman's eyes were hot upon his, his stance rigid. They were two animals, beasts, skirting around each other, taking time to measure up the other's power. You'd think that the air between them was boiling with heated tension. It wasn't. It was stagnant. The kind of stagnancy that hadn't found the way out of its tightening confines. It swirled around ever so slowly, looking for an outlet before it could flare up and destroy everything in its way. And it was chilling. The kind of chill that appeared before a blizzard hit and lingered to instantly freeze anything that might have missed the snowstorm.

Their eyes roamed each other's figure, alert and wary, inviting yet deadly. Zoro stood still. All ego and pride were burnt out by the hot, searing heat that alighted somewhere near his guts.

_In the face of something as confusing as a relationship with Sanji, at times like this there stands only one clear question to be answered._

_The question of needs._

"I heard you alright," he said, still glaring at the cook. "Just want to make sure that you'll keep your words."

_He shouldn't have been troubled with any other things._

"Well, you know me," replied Sanji, all seriousness. "I don't back out from my own words."

"What if you find other ties? One that's not as bleak as that black one I gave you."

Sanji took another step. "Sorry, but I only like 'em black."

_It all boils down to something very simple, really._

"I have to say something, though. I'm not going to change the way I am," said Sanji again.

Zoro scoffed. "I don't think you can. But I guess I'll just have to make my peace with that."

"You sure? No more wrecking havoc in the galley for stupid reasons?"

Zoro's eyebrows twitched, but he played along. "Give you my word."

"No more cussing when I'm doing my job as the ship's cook? I'll still make those orange-coconut cocktail things for the girls, you know. The one you hate so much."

"No."

"No more bitching about veggie stews and tofu steaks?"

"Don't push your luck, asshole."

Sanji grinned. He was currently standing right before the tensed-up swordsman. Funny, Sanji thought. Up-close, the man didn't look as ragged and shady as he seemed to. Oh, he was still as menacing and ferocious as ever. That side of Zoro would never change, perhaps. But Sanji didn't mind. After all, they were all marauders. A little savageness wouldn't hurt anybody. At least not anybody on their side of the law. Besides, it might be interesting being with someone he could fight against and cursed at on daily basis without so much of guilty feelings.

Zoro touched the pointy tip of the tie with his fingers. He let them ran up along the silky smooth edge and watched with silent amusement as Sanji tensed up at the gesture. The little, insignificant gesture. He curled his finger around the sleek blackness, pulling Sanji gently towards him. The blonde-veiled forehead rested on his own, warm and moist from the slight sweat, despite of the cool afternoon air. The strong smell of tobacco numbed Zoro's senses. He could feel the soft, fluttering feel on his skin as Sanji's eyelashes brushed his cheeks when the cook closed his eyes. The world seemed to blur away in the unexpected closeness with this someone Zoro just realized he would kill and fight battles for.

_It has never been so complicated after all._

When it came to Sanji, beyond all that was vexing and puzzling, there was only one thing he needed to be concerned about.

He just wanted the bastard to wear Zoro's _tie_. Either literally or metaphorically.

No other men's, no other women's.

Just his.

And in return, he put his all being —mind, body, and soul—into the hands of this swearing, smoking, ill tempered, proud, and slightly vain son of a bitch.

Zoro had never before felt so much at home in his whole life.

When he brushed his lips on the other's, tasting the sweet mingle of sage and thyme and wine and nicotine and something else unknown that was tastiest of all, warm and wet and tempting, he realized that what he was holding in his arms right now was the most significant thing that had ever barged and jump-kicked its way into his life. He was probably more significant than Zoro's own life.

No, not perhaps.

Definitely.

"By the way," said Sanji, with a voice that was slightly hoarse, when they parted lips. "Just want to make sure of something."

"Hnn?"

"I can still wear my other ties, right? I mean, it'd be such a waste to throw them all away. I kind of like some of them."

Zoro's eyes twitched. "You're kidding, right?"

"No. Not really."

"But all that talk about not wanting any other ties! What about it?"

"Wasn't that just a figure of speaking? You know, metaphors?"

"I spent so much on that tie, I practically sold my soul to the devil!"

"See, that's a metaphor!"

"I don't see why you'd need any other…"

"Don't tell me you actually thought that I can only have one piece of tie! What should I wear on laundry day?"

"I think your shirts and pants would do."

"Che. What does a brute like you know about style?"

"Shut up, you bastard!"

"YOU shut up, asshole!"

"Dumbass."

"Shithead."

…………………………………end………………………………

(Finished: Dec/08/2004)  
(Fin. Edit: Mar/01/2005)

(If you find a version of this fic somewhere that is slightly different than this one, it's because I'm still editing. I have a bad habit of keep coming back to fics and re-edit them when I feel that I have to. There shouldn't be any major change, though. If you want to know which version is the latest, just check the editing date (Fin. Edit). will always have the latest version of my fics.

Things about this fic that I'm sorry for:  
-The shop clerk. I originally created him as an unimportant extra to fill the void in the boutique. He heard what I planned for him and caught on a personality. I ended up liking him more than I should have…  
-The snail-whale. Don't ask why it's there. If you're wondering what it looks like, use your Oda-ish imagination… waits for 10 seconds… There it is. Funny-looking fellow, isn't it?  
-The fic's length. I don't know what happened. Ask Zoro.  
-Giorco Marmani. I'm sorry I had to make a parody out of your label. I actually like your style and I think it fits perfectly for the sleek, gigolo types like Sanji. I didn't mean any harm. Especially not the ones that I had to show up in court for.

Things about this fic that I'm not sorry for:  
-The abuse of a necktie of a dubious nature.  
-That I got to curse a lot. It was satisfying. Cursing, I meant. Not my writing.  
-That I made Zoro & Sanji sound like drama queens. Maybe Zoro could be the drama king. But Sanji was positively a queen. Alright, maybe I am a little bit sorry I ruined them…  
-Unnecessary appearances of the other Straw Hat crews (that is, other than Nami whose role was rather important in this fic). I have no other defense for this except that I love 'em all to death! insert fangirling shriek here


End file.
